


War Storm

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Dystopia, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Rape, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  In a future war, Ed and Winry both suffer.<br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa probably hates what I do to her characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies of Storms

X X X

It sounded like thunder.

If he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, he could imagine it was thunder. The sparking lights, the rumble, the way the ground shook – it could be a close lightning strike.

But the other sounds – the screams, the gunfire – proved it a lie.

Gritting his teeth, Edward opened his eyes, peering over the banked earth of the foxhole. He could see blue uniforms, stained black with blood. Reddened earth beneath those bodies. The stink of cordite and baked flesh filled the air. He swallowed hard to keep from puking.

He’d made a promise to come home safe. To come home alive. The same one he’d always made. If the sound was just the thunder, he could imagine being home, in bed with Winry, curled up with her.

Another explosion rocked the earth works, sending dirt into his face. Ed spat it out, rubbing his eyes to clear them.

Too bad it wasn’t thunder, and he wasn’t an alchemist any more.

X X X


	2. Lullabye

X X X

The shout cut through the quiet night, and Winry barely looked up at the sound of it. It wouldn’t be the first scream of the evening. She hoped her voice wouldn’t add to what the soldiers liked to call ‘the lullabye.’ “Sweet voices to sing us to our sleep,” they’d laugh.

It had been foolish to believe Amestris could remain at peace with the neighboring countries. Drachma had never stopped fighting to regain Briggs. That an army would somehow slip down and attack from the Eastern Desert had never even been considered.

In Rezembool, they’d raped her on her own bed while her son screamed in the next room. Winry had tried to reach him, to protect him. The soldiers had choked her into unconsciousness, and when she came to, in a cart with Nelly, staring blankly ahead, tears rolling down her cheeks, Winry knew her son was dead.

She’d fought back the second time, managing to break the man’s nose. He called in reinforcements to restrain her. When she’d bit one of them, tearing a chunk out of his face, they’d slapped her nearly senseless. After they’d each taken their turn, the man with the broken nose had spat on her, a mixture of sputum and blood, and laughed as he’d walked away. Unable to move that night, she’d almost hoped she’d die. When Winry realized it was morning, and she was still alive, she’d cried.

If he was still alive, word would’ve gotten to Ed that Rezembool had been destroyed. Winry thought of him, of his pride in their son, of the way he’d held her at the train station.

Another scream ripped through the air, a different voice raised in pain and rage.

“Fools,” she whispered, “to think we’d ever be through with war.”

X X X


End file.
